


The Address of a Myth

by andveryginger



Series: Mythverse [1]
Category: Forever (TV), Forever Knight
Genre: Dark Nick and Nat, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5220464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andveryginger/pseuds/andveryginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lucas introduces the newest addition to the OCME staff, Henry can't help but think he's met her somewhere before. The answer will lead Henry down an entirely new rabbit hole... much to Jo's chagrin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to idelthoughts for the last-minute beta read. All but the final confrontation scene have been revised according to the feedback provided. Anything else is definitely my fault!
> 
> The title, "The Address of a Myth" comes from _Forever Knight_ episode 3 x 06, "My Boyfriend is a Vampire." In it, Nick and his partner, Tracy, investigate the death of a woman who had been on a Jerry Springer-like talk show only the day before, claiming her boyfriend was one of the undead. When one of the show directors is asked if she got the address of the boyfriend, she responds, "But vampires don’t exist. Why bother asking for the address of a myth?” That line seemed to stick with me as I conceived and wrote this fic... though the term "address" could be applied as both a noun and a verb in this case. 
> 
> This is my first fic in the Forever fandom. I do hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Adjusting his coat over his shoulders, Doctor Henry Morgan caught a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision and looked up. Beyond the enormous tempered glass window, he observed his assistant, Lucas Wahl, escorting an unknown woman through the lab. Of average height and build, long locks of bright auburn hair swept up, tendrils framing a rounded face with large eyes of a strangely indeterminate color. Her skin was a shade of unblemished porcelain, her features highlighted by the perfect amount of makeup. It was her eyes, however, that caught his attention. He’d swear he’d seen them before.

He watched as she followed Lucas, heavy cashmere coat draped over an arm. There were no furrowed brows, no grimaces, no expressions of confusion. If anything, she seemed to watch the young man with an expectant eye, understanding what she was being told. She was well familiar with the morgue, then, he reasoned.

Signing off his infernal device -- his new computer -- and switching off his desk lamp, Henry stepped out of his office. The heavy glass door swung slowly closed behind him. As he inserted his key into the lock, he heard Lucas call to him. “Ah, Dr. Morgan!” he exclaimed.

Henry tucked his keys into his trouser pocket and turned. “Lucas,” he said. “Squeezing in a bit of overtime?”

“Ah, no,” his assistant replied. “Just trying to score a few brownie points with the chief.” He gestured to their auburn-haired guest. “Doctor Morgan this is Doctor --”

“Doctor Lombard,” Henry said, interrupting. A friendly smile broke across his features and he extended his hand. “Doctor Henry Morgan. A pleasure to finally meet you.”

The woman shook his hand and Henry was struck by how cool it was, despite having been clasped under her coat. “Please, call me Natalie,” she replied. A wry grin curved her lips. “I take it you were warned?”

Eyes alight with amusement, Henry nodded. “The CME said you might be stopping in. You’ll be taking over the night shift?”

“As of Monday,” Natalie replied, “though I’d be just as happy to start tonight.” She gave her own smile to Henry’s confused expression. “The boxes are unpacked and the pictures are hung. I’m just ready to get back to work. Too much vacation between jobs, I think.”

Henry laughed. He could certainly understand that. Too much time at home led him to loose ends and no small amount of frustration for Abe. He said as much.

“I guess you don’t take much vacation,” the new medical examiner said.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “He takes like _no_ vacation,” he commented, and Henry glared. “What? You don’t. And Jo never did. Now that the two of you --”

The medical examiner arched a brow at his assistant, lips set in a line as the glare deepened. Not for the first time, Henry wished his condition had been accompanied by telepathic powers. They would have proven their worth simply in keeping Lucas quiet in the time they had thus far worked together. “Now that the two of us… what, Lucas?”

Squirming, his lab assistant tried to climb out of the proverbial hole he’d dug for himself. He glanced at Dr. Lombard, then back to Henry. “Y’know,” he said. He cleared his throat. “You and Jo -- I mean, Detective Martinez. _Together._ ”

“Lucas, I believe it would be beneficial to your health if you found your way off premises,” Henry said, muscles in his jaw ticking as he spoke. “Now.”

At the terse note in the ME’s voice, Lucas snapped his jaw shut. “Right. I, ah, I should probably go ahead to the pub...reserve us a table. And a dart board.” He turned to Natalie, lips curving into a forced smile that was still genuine. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon, Doctor Lombard.”

A wry grin twitched at the corners of Dr. Lombard’s lips. “I’m sure we will, Lucas. Have a good night.” She and Henry stood watching Lucas back away, then break into a run out the door.

Dr. Morgan exhaled after he disappeared around the corner. “My apologies for that,” he said. “Lucas… he means well, but --”

“We all have our moments.”

“We do,” he conceded. “I suppose I was a bit harsh. Unfortunately, as Detective Martinez and I are considered partners --”

Doctor Lombard finished the thought, head tilted to the side as she regarded him. “It could be a problem if news that you’re dating got back to the boss?”

Henry nodded. “Something like that, yes.”

“I think you’ll find, Doctor Morgan,” Natalie said slowly, “that I really do understand when discretion is needed.” There was a glimmer in her eyes he recognized as a mixture of sympathy and amusement, as though there were a dark joke only she were privy to.

Opening his mouth to comment, Henry was interrupted by the sound of his partner’s voice, echoing off the tile. “And this is the lab,” she said. Turning, he found her sauntering through the glass doors, an unfamiliar man in tow. Of average height and build, capped with sandy blond hair, he wore a bespoke jacket and blue button-down shirt Henry was sure rivalled his own Paul Stuart in quality. Unlike himself, however, both were worn with well-cut jeans and black oxfords, his badge visible on his belt. A boyish grin lit the man’s face, eyes sparkling when he spotted Doctor Lombard.

“So this is where you snuck off to,” he teased.

Natalie rolled her eyes and shook her head, swatting him with the back of her hand. “There was no sneaking,” she protested. “I just... got tired of Law and Order reruns.” She looked to Henry. “Doctor Morgan, Detective Nick Cullen. Nick, this is Doctor Morgan, the day shift supervisor.”

Shaking the detective’s hand, Henry found it, like Doctor Lombard’s, seemed to reflect a cooler core temperature. He then noticed the detective’s hand come to rest against the small of Doctor Lombard’s back, closing some of the distance between them. There was possession there, he thought, and no small amount of protectiveness, a fact he filed away for later. “A pleasure to meet you, Detective,” Henry said aloud.

“And you,” Nick replied with a nod and a smile. His accent, Henry noted, was a bit unusual, as though he made effort to speak cleanly, with as little accent as possible. Despite the effort, his pronunciation still carried an odd mix of intonations found in locations scattered from North America to the European continent. It was the type of accent one acquired when one travelled extensively… for a very long time.

Beside him, Jo cleared her throat.

“Ah, yes,” Henry began. He cast a sheepish smile at Jo before looking back to Natalie. “Doctor Lombard, please allow me to introduce my… partner… Detective Jo Martinez.”

The two women shook hands. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Lucas and Doctor Morgan,” Natalie said. Henry felt rather than saw the sidelong glance Jo directed at him, but the female ME spoke before either could say anything. “Don’t worry -- it was all good, I promise,” she said with a grin.

Doctor Lombard looked between the two detectives. “Getting the grand tour?” she asked Cullen.

Detective Cullen leaned slightly against Lombard. The two stood shoulder-to-shoulder for what seemed a long moment, eyes and brows silently communicating. Eventually, he shrugged his opposite shoulder and nodded toward his female counterpart. “Jo was just giving me a quick introduction. When she mentioned she was coming this way, I asked to tag along. I thought I might find you here.”

“You did, hm?” Natalie looked to Nick, gaze dancing over his features with amusement and unabashed affection. “I thought you were going to spend a quiet evening with a glass of wine and the piano?”

“The piano still needs tuning after the move.” The boyish grin returned to Cullen’s features. “And the wine… well, you’ve always told me I shouldn’t drink alone.”

“Speaking of a drink,” Jo said slowly. Her gaze flitted toward the clock, then back to Henry. There was a hint of amusement in her own eyes. “We should go. Hanson will never let us live it down if we’re late again.”

Allowing his smile to shift slightly lopsided, Henry regarded Jo as he withdrew his pocket watch. opening it to verify the time. Noting the lab clock was still running correctly, he snapped the gold lid back into place and slipped the antique back into his pocket. “Right.” He turned his attention to the new ME and her partner. “Until Monday evening, then, Doctor Lombard?”

Natalie smiled. “See you Monday, Doctor.”

With a quick nod to Detective Cullen, Henry made to follow Jo out of the lab, adjusting his scarf around his neck. His lips thinned as his hand came to rest against the small of Jo’s back. Yes, he’d seen Doctor Lombard somewhere before, but he’d be damned if he could remember where… or when.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previous chapter notes apply.

Frowning into his tumbler of 25-year-old Macallan, Henry canted it slightly left, then right. The smoky amber rippled and rolled, alternately clinging to and slipping over the surface of the glass, never settling into an absolute form. It was, he thought, not unlike his feelings about meeting Dr. Lombard. She _seemed_ courteous and competent enough, perhaps even friendly. But there was something… _off_ … and even he, with over two hundred years observational experience, couldn’t put his finger on it. His failure to recall why she seemed so familiar also did nothing to ease his perplexed mind.

“Henry?”

Jo’s voice was followed closely by a warm hand on his shoulder. Brown eyes watched him as she lowered herself into the chair beside him. Her fingers drifted down his arm until they draped over his wrist. “You’re pretty quiet. You all right?”

“Perfectly,” he replied. He allowed his gaze to brush over her features, smile slowly curving his lips as he did so. Shifting his hand, he took hers into his. “Simply a bit… contemplative.”

There was amusement in her eyes as she regarded him. “Contemplative, hm?” she echoed, to which he nodded. “Well, I know it’s not about the case…”

“No,” Henry replied with a chuckle. “I’d say we wrapped those particular loose ends well enough for an easy conviction.”

Her thumb danced over the back of his hand, almond-shaped eyes narrowing as she considered him. “Let me guess: Doctor Lombard?”

Henry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Becoming that easy to read, am I?”

“Hardly!” Jo gave a laugh. “I may not have as many years experience under my belt, but I _am_ a detective.” She pulled the tumbler from his hand, taking a sip before returning it. “You seemed fine when I called earlier.”

His lips twitched. Jo could never be found lacking in the area of deductive skill or instinct. She had known all along, for example, that he was hiding something. It had been her patience, friendship, and affection that led her to wait. She knew he would confide in her… eventually.

He remembered well the day he finally did: She came to him, photograph of Abigail, baby Abraham, and himself in one hand, his pocket watch in the other. She looked up at him with so much hope, so much wonder. He found he couldn’t refuse her -- not again.

...and she handled his revelations remarkably well. It wasn’t every day, after all, one learned their best friend and partner was a 200 year-old immortal. There were no doctors called, no padded cells. Just a series of long, late-night conversations that led to Jo practically taking residence in the guest room before finally ending up in his.

Those quiet nights -- stories swapped over scotch or tea or hot chocolate -- were some of the most intimate he had shared with a woman in over thirty years. They’d learned so much about each other, shared so much with one another. Henry knew he shouldn’t be surprised Jo now understood him so well.

“I can’t explain it, really,” he said at length, “which is, perhaps, even more frustrating.” He frowned, brow furrowing, lips thinning. “I simply cannot shake the feeling I’ve met her before; that I’m missing something where she’s concerned -- almost as though I’ve observed it, but I can’t _quite_ comprehend what I’ve seen.”

Jo furrowed her own brow as she regarded him. “Well, you travel in the same professional circles. Maybe you’ve met her before?”

“Perhaps,” Henry allowed. “Though she, herself, gave no indication she recalled meeting me before.”

At this, his partner pursed her lips. “Maybe the greeting she gave Detective Cullen?” she suggested. “When he said he knew her, I didn’t realize he meant he... _knew_... her.”

“I thought detectives were supposed to be capable of reading between the lines -- students of human nature,” Henry teased. 

She rewarded him with a glare usually reserved for uncooperative suspects, to which he could only grin. Her own lips twitched as she struggled to maintain a more stern expression. “ _Detective_ , Henry, not psychic... though my job might be a lot easier if I were,” she corrected.

“I’m just as glad such a thing is impossible,” he said. “I don’t know how you might have reacted, had you discovered my secret so quickly. I rather cherish the bond we built as partners.” Reaching up with his free hand, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s quite a strong foundation.”

A slow smile crept across her lips, eyes warming. “Yes, it is.”

“Okay, you two...” The distinct Brooklyn accent of their other partner and friend, Detective Mike Hanson, broke through the haze surrounding them. He was grinning widely, twirling a dart between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “Whisper sweet nothings later -- we’ve got a round of darts to finish here!”

Lucas gave a chuckle over his amber bottle of beer. “He only says that ‘cause he’s winning.”

Jo rolled her eyes as Henry allowed a smirk. Holding her gaze with his, he downed the last of the scotch in one swallow, the tumbler hitting the table with a solid thunk. “I suppose I’ll have to see what I can do about that.” With a wink to Jo, he pushed himself to his feet and set his attention to matters at hand.

Hanson wasn’t surprised when he lost.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter one for notes.

It was a week later, at a moment Henry least expected it, that he found it: His agenda from the 1995 symposium of the North American Society of Medical Examiners and Forensic Science Professionals. He was not in the habit of keeping such documents -- being able to disappear quickly meant he could not afford to be a packrat -- but he had been impressed with one of the presentations, discussing some innovative means of compensating for exposure of human tissue to sunlight and UV radiation when fixing time of death. Indeed, his notes filled the margins of the colorful, silky page, and he had incorporated some of the theories into his own practice. But it was the included photograph of the speaker, one Dr. Natalie Lambert, Chief Medical Examiner for the City of Toronto, that triggered his memory. She bore more than a passing resemblance to the newest addition to the OCME staff, Dr. Natalie Lombard… and Henry didn’t believe in coincidences.

There were small differences, of course. Doctor Lombard, for example, seemed to have a much more pallid complexion, skin flawless and porcelain in tone; Dr. Lambert showed signs of a mild case of rosacea, largely concealed by well-applied makeup. And then the hair -- Dr. Lambert wore her unruly, dark auburn curls in natural fashion, while Dr. Lombard wore her smooth, bright auburn strands swept into a stylish upward twist.

Both could be easily altered, applying a better diet, exercise, and a few bottles of hair color. But there was one thing she couldn’t change: her eyes. Doctor Lombard’s large, changeable orbs held the exact same mischievous twinkle as those in the headshot of Doctor Lambert before him. He _knew_ he’d seen them before! He relaxed somewhat, one riddle solved, and grateful that his faculties weren’t failing him.

So Doctor Lombard was Doctor Lambert... and she hadn’t aged a day since 1995. Henry frowned, grip tightening on the agenda, creasing the smooth surface. How was this even possible? Another immortal, he reasoned, like himself; like Adam. It was the only explanation that made sense. 

A chill soared down his spine. _Like Adam._ The idea echoed in his mind. The 2000 year old man currently languishing in the hospital, locked inside his own mind -- the very same man who threatened his son, his friends, his life here, in New York. Did Dr. Lombard know his secret? Was she there to torment him, as Adam had been? 

His gaze darted to the clock across the room. Just after two in the morning. Lombard would be on shift now, he thought, and it might be quiet enough for a chat.

Pushing himself to his feet, Henry ascended from his private lab into the antique shop above, taking the stairs two at a time. He maintained his pace as he dashed into the upstairs apartment he shared with his septuagenarian son, Abe. Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, however, and he gave a start.

“Henry!” Jo Martinez stood in his kitchen, glass of water in one hand, the other resting on her breastbone. She wore her usual sleep attire -- the oversized t-shirt and sweatpants she liberated from his dresser some months ago. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“My apologies, Jo,” he replied, blinking. He reached for his coat and scarf. “I -- I just realized something. Something I should really discuss with Doctor Lambert -- _Lombard_ \-- with Doctor Lombard.”

His partner regarded him warily. “You’ve never been a very good liar, Henry,” she replied at length. “Despite all evidence to the contrary.”

“Jo…” She arched a brow at him and he stopped. Pursing his lips, he took a few steps toward her, considering his explanation. His instinct was to protect her, to keep her safe from any possible threat. But Jo had proven numerous times she didn’t appreciate being sidelined, especially when she suspected trouble was brewing. 

He sighed, extending the agenda to her. “I _did_ see her before, years ago -- 1995, to be exact. She was the Chief Medical Examiner for the City of Toronto, a Doctor Natalie Lambert.”

Her own brow furrowed as she took the sheet, the creases deepening as she considered the image. “But she looks the same.” Jo looked up at Henry. “Do you think she’s… like you?”

“I’d say that’s a very distinct possibility,” he answered. “I need to speak with her, find out her intentions.”

The detective shook her head and set aside her glass, then turned toward the bedroom. Determination set with familiarity in her jaw. “Not by yourself, you don’t.” 

He rushed forward, catching her arm and allowing his concern to show clearly. “Jo,” he began, “we have no idea what she intends. If she’s anything like Adam, I -- I can’t…” Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he looked skyward, silently pleading with a power he wasn’t even sure existed. Was the truth really so hard to admit? “At least if she tries something, I’ll come back. Whereas you…”

Jo stilled, dark brown eyes searching his as his voice tapered to silence. They stood there, in the doorway of the kitchen, for a long moment, the quiet drawn out between them. Understanding flickered in the pale lighting, even as her gaze took on a glassy sheen. When she finally spoke, her voice was deeper, weighted by the emotion of the moment. “But what if, one day, you don’t come back? What if, one of these times -- one of these deaths -- really is your last and I could have returned the favor and saved _you_?” She swallowed, a smile flitting across her lips. “We’re partners, Henry Morgan. It’s time you get used to the fact you’re not going through this alone.”

He struggled to find words. Finding none, he shook his head. The three little words usually shared between lovers didn’t begin to cover what he was feeling in that moment, reflected now in her eyes: Compassion mingled with gratitude, and an affection grown to a depth that surprised him. His heart swelled with the realization. “Jo,” he whispered, brushing his lips against hers.

A rueful grin curved her lips, one he felt, rather than saw. “I know,” she replied quietly. She raked her fingernails through the closely-cropped hair just above his ear, her hand coming to rest at the nape of his neck as his hands found her hips. “But if we’re going to talk to Dr. Lombard, we should get going.”

Henry sighed, then nodded. Leaning forward, he kissed her deeply before releasing her. “Don’t think for a moment this conversation is over, Detective,” he said.

Jo tossed a glance over her shoulder, impish gleam in her eyes. “Somehow, _Doctor Morgan_ , I suspect this conversation will involve very little talking,” she replied. She then disappeared into his bedroom, closing the door behind her.

The immortal medical examiner could only watch her, a slow grin crawling across his lips. She was getting to know him a little _too_ well, it seemed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see chapter one for notes.
> 
> This chapter is posted without additional beta. Any mistakes you see are my own.

The OCME lab was nearly deserted when they arrived some thirty minutes later. Through the glass doors, they noted the presence of Detective Cullen and Doctor Lombard, with no technicians to be found. The detective was seated on the autopsy table closest to the offices, legs dangling over the edge like a child, his attention fixed on the doctor beside him. Leaned over a collection kit, Doctor Lombard prepared a slide, wry grin curving across her lips as they chatted. Both looked up as Henry and Jo entered.

“Doctor Morgan; Jo…” Natalie greeted the two with a smile, confusion flickering across her features. “Late night?”

Henry clasped his hands behind his back and offered a reserved smile. He could sense Jo hovering just beyond his right shoulder, could almost feel the tension radiating off her. Were this a casual visit, he thought, she’d dig her fingertips into the hip pockets of her jeans, shoulders loose and body language open. But her hands remained at her sides, ensuring she could easily draw her pistol, currently holstered on her back right hip.

“Very,” he answered at length. Stepping forward, he angled slightly toward the microscope workstation. “It seems I have an insatiable curiosity. When I stumble over a problem, my mind keeps rolling it over and over until I find a solution. It’s kept me up many a night.”

“Occupational hazard?” Cullen asked, arching his brows. 

Despite his apparent nonchalance, Henry could feel the weight of the detective’s appraisal, blue eyes watching him intently as he spoke. There was tension in his frame as well, a suspicious note in his question. “I suppose you could say that, given that our respective positions are all about solving puzzles,” Henry replied.

Natalie cleared her throat. She avoided meeting his eyes, attention shifting instead to the slide in her gloved hands. “I take that to mean you’ve had something keeping you up tonight,” she said.

“I have, indeed.” Turning to face the new detective and medical examiner, Henry leaned against the stainless workstation, now clasping his hands in front of him. “You see, Doctor Lombard, you have very lovely eyes.”

Blinking, Natalie looked up at him. Her uncertainty creased her brow, though a smile flickered briefly across her lips. “Th-thank you?”

Henry nodded to acknowledge her thanks. “You’re quite welcome,” he said. “The only problem with such remarkable features is that they make quite a memorable impression.” Reaching into the interior pocket of his coat, he withdrew the agenda and unfolded it. He then held up the biography page for Doctor Natalie Lambert. The two exchanged a glance. 

“When Lucas showed you the lab a week ago,” he continued, “I had this distinct feeling I’d seen you somewhere before. I simply couldn’t place where or when. I’d almost given up hope when, as I was sorting through an old notebook, I stumbled across this agenda. 

“Unlike many of our colleagues that morning -- whom I suspect were already nursing a hangover, having indulged a bit too much at the banquet the night before -- you had my full attention; your approach was original and I hoped it would be beneficial to my own practices. You spoke with confidence and a hint of amusement. It was that hint, that impish little glimmer, that triggered my memory… the very same impish little glimmer the photographer captured from Doctor Lambert.”

Here, he paused, refolding the agenda with deliberate movements. “You can imagine my surprise when, once I discovered this, I realized that, not only had you adopted an alias, you also had not aged since that day in 1995.” He looked her in the eye. “I have no quarrel with you, Doctor; I’m aware you are more than capable of serving the OCME, and I am not inclined to share this information with anyone.”

Natalie looked to him with a guarded expression. “But?”

“But those of us with similar… _conditions_ ,” Henry said, glancing to Cullen, “are few and far between. I survived over two hundred years before meeting another, and now, in the span of three years, I’ve met three -- one of whom has proven to be a threat to me, my friends, and my family.” He tilted his head to the side. “Are you a threat, Doctor Lambert? Detective Cullen? Because I rather hope that you aren’t.”

Cullen looked to Natalie, eyes conveying his concern as his lips thinned in frustration. A silent conversation ensued, spoken with the shift of weight from one foot to the other, a shift of the gaze, and finally his taking her hand. There was a flicker of a reassurance from one to the other as a decision was made. It was Cullen who answered.

“We’re not a threat, Doctor Morgan,” he replied. He spoke as precisely as before, his voice even and neutral. His gaze flickered between Henry and Jo. “New York is a place for new beginnings, a place where we can just… disappear into the masses, get on with our lives. That’s all we’d hoped to do. I never intended our first meeting with the community to be --”

Henry furrowed his brow, confusion settling over him. “Community?”

Another exchange of glances between Nick and Natalie followed. “Doctor Morgan, when you say ‘condition,’ what, exactly do you mean?” she asked slowly.

“Immortal. Unable to die. Well, dying and then... emerging in a body of water.” He explained. His confusion deepened as it became clear that, perhaps, their immortality was of a different sort altogether. He regarded them with a tilt of his head and slight sideways glance. In his peripheral vision, he saw Jo adopt a similarly confused expression. “Unless your condition is of a completely different type.”

Detective Cullen nodded. “Completely.” Levelling a gaze first at Henry, then Jo, he continued, his voice dropping an octave, intense and haunting. “Perhaps it’s best if you forget this conversation.”

“Forget?” Henry frowned, exchanging glances with Jo. “Why on Earth would I do that? If our conditions are so different, think about how much we could learn from one another! I’d no idea there were other --”

He stopped short, something on the workstation catching his attention: The slightest aroma of metal wafting toward him. Looking to his left, he spotted the possible offender, a black coffee cup, placed next to the keyboard used to control the microscope display. With a glance to Cullen and Lombard, he rounded the edge of the stainless table, leaning over the cup and inhaling deeply. “Blood,” he said. “In a coffee cup.” He looked up to the two other immortals. “Why would you…?”

The two remained silent, Doctor Lombard arching a single brow with wry amusement. 

Realization settled over Henry, and he knew he could not keep the shock from his features. The clues were all there. The cooler core temperatures, their inability to age; sustaining themselves with blood. He swallowed. 

“Henry?” His partner’s voice broke through the haze of wonder and confusion that threatened to swallow him. Her worry for him was apparent in her tone. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re vampires, Jo -- Detective Cullen and Doctor Lombard are _vampires_.”

Martinez blinked. “But...vampires are a myth; they don’t exist.”

“I’m sorry to say that they do,” Cullen said. “ _We_ do.”

Jo regarded the doctor and detective with a frown. “They’re monsters and murders and they suck blood from the bodies of their vics…” She looked to the mug on the table, then back to Cullen and Lombard. “They don’t drink it from a coffee cup.”

At this, Natalie gave a rueful smile. “Some of us do.” She nodded to indicate the cup. “It’s bovine -- cow. Not the most conventional choice, but seems a little less… _Carrie_ … than pig.”

Henry knew his curiosity was piqued. “Bovine? Does it offer the nutrients you need?”

“It’s close enough,” Cullen replied, “though it’s definitely an acquired taste.”  


The historian and doctor in Henry were amazed. So many questions bubbled to the surface, his enthusiasm soaring as his mind struggled to sort fiction from reality. It was then another realization struck him. He looked to Doctor Lombard. “You were still mortal when we first met.”

Lombard nodded once. “I was. How did you know?”

“Your pallor,” Henry replied. “There was a rosiness to your cheeks, possibly a slight case of rosacea. You covered it well with your makeup application, but I tend to be fairly observant about such things.”

Behind him, Jo snorted. “ _There’s_ the understatement of the century.” Henry turned and found her regarding him innocently, affection apparent in her eyes. “What? Your observations have blown up how many of my cases?”

He felt his cheeks warm slightly. “Point taken,” he said, lips twitching as he fought the impulse to grin.

“Doctor Morgan, you say you’ve survived two hundred years,” Natalie began slowly, “dying and then reviving in a body of water.” It was both a question and a statement.

“Naked as the day he was born,” Jo interjected.

Henry cut her a glare, met by her grin. She merely shrugged and he made a note to discuss such a comment with her later. He returned his attention to Doctor Lombard. “Yes,” he replied. “Here in New York, it always seems to be the East River.”

“But you eat, drink, sleep, love -- as a normal human would?”

“As far as I am aware.” He frowned. “I take it that you can’t?”

Cullen shook his head. “We sleep, but, with rare exception, food makes us ill. Love…” He cast a glance to Natalie. “Love can be fatal.”

That glance spoke volumes to Henry, telling a story of its own. Nick, the vampire, had fallen in love with Natalie, the mortal. It had been the mutual attraction that resulted in her current condition. His remorse was evident, as well as the devotion they shared. His heart clenched and he reached for Jo’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

The male vampire could only nod. “I’d been searching for a cure -- a way to be mortal again.”

“And now I’m searching for both of us.” Lombard offered him a smile, shaking their joined hands as she briefly tightened her grip. She looked to Henry. “I’m assuming you’ve kept a journal of your condition?”

He nodded. “I am first, and foremost, a scientist. I thought my observations might eventually lead to a cure for my own condition.”

“Would you be willing to share?” she asked. Her tone was hopeful, gaze insecure. “Studying the similarities and differences between us might lead to a better understanding of what it is, exactly, that we’re fighting.”

The request surprised him. Why hadn’t he thought of that, he wondered. While he certainly had no interest in becoming a vampire, studying their similarities might reveal a common thread to exploit, breaking both curses. “A data exchange?” Doctor Lombard nodded and Henry couldn’t help the smile that broke across his features. “It’s a brilliant idea, actually.”

Shifting forward, he extended his hand. Natalie stepped to meet him, extending her own, only to realize she still wore her exam gloves. Tugging the blue nitrile off her right hand, she offered it again and they shook. “This might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” she quipped.

His grin widened, recognizing the _Casablanca_ reference. “I certainly hope so.” 

Behind him, however, Jo cleared her throat. She gave a self-conscious wave, fingers of one hand tucked into the front pocket of her jeans. “I’m glad we’re all making friends,” she said slowly, “but Henry, it’s after three in the morning, and I would kinda like to get some sleep before shift.”

“Right.” Henry nodded, looking to the two vampires. “Sunrise is just before seven in the morning, so I’m assuming I won’t see either of you when we arrive -- provided that particular quirk of the myth is correct,” he said. “Perhaps we could meet up before you begin your evening shift? I’ll be sure to bring a few of my more interesting reports.”

“Sounds like a workable plan. I usually get to work early, anyway.” Natalie gave a sheepish grin. “Old habits die hard.”

“See you later this evening, then.” Henry closed the distance between he and Jo, his hand coming to rest at the small of her back. He appreciated the warmth he felt from her, the way in which she faced even this -- the existence of vampires -- pragmatically, openly. Still, he suspected there would be a bit more true conversation before they could rest. 

“And Doctor Morgan? Jo?”

The senior ME and detective turned, looking to Cullen. “I don’t think I need to tell you not to share this with anyone,” he said.

Henry glanced to Natalie. “I think you’ll find, Detective Cullen, that we really do understand when discretion is needed.” He gave a wink, then turned back toward the door. As he and Jo headed for her car, he couldn’t help but be a touch excited about what the evening would bring.

Jo could only sigh, shaking her head. She always hated it when he found another rabbit hole and this one, he suspected, was going to be a long one.


End file.
